Read Online Riding the Storm by Sydney Croft - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sydney Croft
Ads: Link
released the energy she held before she shorted herself
out. She could always shock people at will, but only rarely did she wield the
power like a shield so that anyone or anything coming into contact would suffer
a nasty surprise. Holding the shield too long drained her emotionally,
physically and mentally, leaving her little more than a quivering blob for
hours.
There
was just one small problem. Her energy hadn't worked on Creed. And the strange
pulsing sensation still raced through her body from the point where he held her
arm, letting her know that, for the first time in her life, maybe she should be
a little bit afraid.
Creed
McCabe had never let anyone make him feel like a freak. He had a high tolerance
for people and their suspicions and need to stereotype, had to really, because
the way he looked had always drawn more than a few outright stares. Most of
those gazes were appreciative, especially when he'd turned sixteen or so and
many of the women—and men—he came into contact with thought the tattoo that
swirled around his right eye and cheek and disappeared down his neck was cool.
Cool.
Fuck, yeah.
They
had no way of knowing he'd been born with those markings. He'd been
home-schooled because his parents hadn't wanted him to have to deal with the
teachers and school boards who would've accused him of being a punk. Especially
because he'd decided to rebel by getting multiple piercings—tongue, eyebrow,
ears and nipples—because he needed some way to rebel. But the girls he'd been
with always had a good time discovering that the tat didn't end at his neck—and
that it made the entire right side of his body extra-sensitive.
The
tattoo—and the accompanying ghost he liked to call Kat—had been so much a part
of him that being without either would've been like being without air. Or at
least he hadn't thought about parting with either until the past few years had
taken their toll on him.
He'd
been born into ACRO—his parents were some of the earliest recruits when
Stargate disbanded and Dev's parents began the agency with a few psychics and
not much else. Creed's parents had been ghost hunters—and best friends with Mr.
and Mrs. O'Malley. He'd been rescued from an abandoned cave in Tennessee
thought to be haunted by the famous Bell Witch, and adopted by the McCabes,
who'd been trying unsuccessfully to have children of their own for years. They
didn't care about his markings or the fact that he was followed by a spirit who
claimed to be a direct descendant of the Bell Witch, and they'd encouraged the
fact that he was able to speak to the dead through that spirit—a ghost
translator, of sorts.
He'd
grown up in the unreal world of Special Abilities, had watched Dev take over
the reins and bring in even stranger types than Creed himself.
Types
like Annika, who'd become something of Dev's special pet. If you believed the
rumors, which Creed tended not to do.
"Can
you let go of me now?" Annika asked, the blue of her eyes slightly less
icy than normal.
He
released her wrist and she rubbed her forearm where his fingers had splayed.
"Did I scare you?"
"Yes,
Creed. I'm shaking with terror," she muttered. "Dev didn't mention
you were coming."
"Last
minute decision, based on your latest report," he said. He'd turned away
from her, which was pretty hard to do because she was freaking gorgeous—blond
and curvy and hotter than hot—but he sensed the change in climate from the
second he'd walked into this place and couldn't ignore that. "When was the
last activity you recorded?"
"A
minute before you walked in the door," she said. He turned to stare at her
and she rolled her eyes as he grabbed the multimeter from her. "The last
recording was an hour ago, centered in the upstairs hallway, right at the
landing."
He
took the stairs two at a time to see if he could catch the tail end of the
energy, but it was long gone.
"How's
your shadow doing?" Annika asked from behind him. "Maybe she could make
herself useful and
out. She could always shock people at will, but only rarely did she wield the
power like a shield so that anyone or anything coming into contact would suffer
a nasty surprise. Holding the shield too long drained her emotionally,
physically and mentally, leaving her little more than a quivering blob for
hours.
There
was just one small problem. Her energy hadn't worked on Creed. And the strange
pulsing sensation still raced through her body from the point where he held her
arm, letting her know that, for the first time in her life, maybe she should be
a little bit afraid.
Creed
McCabe had never let anyone make him feel like a freak. He had a high tolerance
for people and their suspicions and need to stereotype, had to really, because
the way he looked had always drawn more than a few outright stares. Most of
those gazes were appreciative, especially when he'd turned sixteen or so and
many of the women—and men—he came into contact with thought the tattoo that
swirled around his right eye and cheek and disappeared down his neck was cool.
Cool.
Fuck, yeah.
They
had no way of knowing he'd been born with those markings. He'd been
home-schooled because his parents hadn't wanted him to have to deal with the
teachers and school boards who would've accused him of being a punk. Especially
because he'd decided to rebel by getting multiple piercings—tongue, eyebrow,
ears and nipples—because he needed some way to rebel. But the girls he'd been
with always had a good time discovering that the tat didn't end at his neck—and
that it made the entire right side of his body extra-sensitive.
The
tattoo—and the accompanying ghost he liked to call Kat—had been so much a part
of him that being without either would've been like being without air. Or at
least he hadn't thought about parting with either until the past few years had
taken their toll on him.
He'd
been born into ACRO—his parents were some of the earliest recruits when
Stargate disbanded and Dev's parents began the agency with a few psychics and
not much else. Creed's parents had been ghost hunters—and best friends with Mr.
and Mrs. O'Malley. He'd been rescued from an abandoned cave in Tennessee
thought to be haunted by the famous Bell Witch, and adopted by the McCabes,
who'd been trying unsuccessfully to have children of their own for years. They
didn't care about his markings or the fact that he was followed by a spirit who
claimed to be a direct descendant of the Bell Witch, and they'd encouraged the
fact that he was able to speak to the dead through that spirit—a ghost
translator, of sorts.
He'd
grown up in the unreal world of Special Abilities, had watched Dev take over
the reins and bring in even stranger types than Creed himself.
Types
like Annika, who'd become something of Dev's special pet. If you believed the
rumors, which Creed tended not to do.
"Can
you let go of me now?" Annika asked, the blue of her eyes slightly less
icy than normal.
He
released her wrist and she rubbed her forearm where his fingers had splayed.
"Did I scare you?"
"Yes,
Creed. I'm shaking with terror," she muttered. "Dev didn't mention
you were coming."
"Last
minute decision, based on your latest report," he said. He'd turned away
from her, which was pretty hard to do because she was freaking gorgeous—blond
and curvy and hotter than hot—but he sensed the change in climate from the
second he'd walked into this place and couldn't ignore that. "When was the
last activity you recorded?"
"A
minute before you walked in the door," she said. He turned to stare at her
and she rolled her eyes as he grabbed the multimeter from her. "The last
recording was an hour ago, centered in the upstairs hallway, right at the
landing."
He
took the stairs two at a time to see if he could catch the tail end of the
energy, but it was long gone.
"How's
your shadow doing?" Annika asked from behind him. "Maybe she could make
herself useful and
Similar Books
